


Behind Closed Doors

by PenguinofProse



Series: S4 Time Jump AUs [22]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Episode: s04e13 Praimfaya - Time Jump, F/M, Family Fluff, also angst, angst and smut and fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:00:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28673367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenguinofProse/pseuds/PenguinofProse
Summary: Time jump AU. What if Octavia banished Clarke from the bunker but Bellamy found her a hiding place?
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Series: S4 Time Jump AUs [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1764070
Comments: 38
Kudos: 190





	Behind Closed Doors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [QueenoftheWallflowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenoftheWallflowers/gifts).



> Here's a time jump and I seem to remember the prompt came from Pris - thank you! Huge thanks as well to Stormkpr for betaing it. Happy reading!
> 
> Content note: living in hiding, injury, discussion of abortion.

What do you do when the world is ending, and the two people you love the most seem utterly incapable of coexisting peacefully?

It's a question Bellamy needs to find an answer to, and _soon_. He's watching while his sister rants at Clarke about _dishonour and disloyalty_ , while Clarke makes no attempt to defend herself in return.

It's like she's given up already, and that scares him.

It shouldn't bother him, perhaps. He should want her to give up and walk outside to die. Clarke did close the door on his sister, then threaten to shoot him to keep things that way. But she relented, and now she looks regretful and guilty and a thousand other sad things.

Also, she's _Clarke_. He's basically hardwired to keep her alive.

"There's no place in this bunker for traitors, and that's my final word." Octavia is saying, now.

Clarke only nods heavily. Bellamy hates that most of all. What happened to the argumentative young woman he first fell in love with?

"Get out of here. Go on. The door is open for you up there."

"I'll escort her." Bellamy says at once, the words falling out of him before his plan is even half-formed. "I'll see to it that she leaves."

Octavia narrows her eyes at him. "You sure you have the stomach to throw her out, big brother?"

He snorts as if the question is absurd. "You know she had me at gunpoint, O? Believe me, I'll do what has to be done."

Octavia nods. Clarke nods, too. Bellamy starts shepherding her towards the door of Octavia's office with a heavy hand between her shoulder blades – to show his sister he won't let her run, perhaps, as much as to try to give Clarke some faint hint that he's still here for her.

He's worked it out, see. He's figured out the answer to that question. It's a simple scheme, a case of falling back on old habits.

It's time for Clarke to hide here beneath the ground.

…...

They've been walking in an uncomfortable silence for several long minutes by the time Clarke seems to realise they are not heading for the door to the surface.

"What's going on?" She asks him, in a hissing whisper.

He glances around. The hallways are pretty empty – with the death wave due in minutes, most people are settling into their dorms.

"We're heading to med bay." He says. "If anyone asks, I took pity and let you say goodbye to your mother."

"And the truth?" She presses, frowning at him. Thank god. That's slightly more like the fiery Clarke he knows and loves.

"There must be somewhere down there she can hide you. There are cupboards and closets in a med bay, right? And it's somewhere that O and all these warriors won't go too often. I figure it's as safe as you're going to get."

She stops dead. She looks over at him, tears in her eyes, a stubborn set to her jaw.

"Clarke -"

"No, Bellamy. I won't let you do this. I won't let you risk everything to hide me. Not – not after you spent your whole childhood risking everything to hide _her_."

He snorts. "I'm not risking much this time round. She's my sister. She wouldn't hurt me even if she does find out."

"Bellamy -"

"No, Clarke. Listen to me. We don't have much time." He hears himself say it, hears an echo of Clarke saying it to him all those months ago in the reign of Pike, too. Funny how their relationship always comes down to frantic desperate deals like this one.

One of these days, he'd like to get to know her in peacetime.

He pushes that thought aside through sheer force of will. It won't help her now.

"Clarke." He tries to pick up his scattered thoughts. "You just need to hide until she cools off and realises she made a mistake. I swear the first time med bay is overloaded or she has to make a difficult political decision she'll be saying she wishes she hadn't thrown you out. And then we bring you out of hiding."

But it turns out the logistics are not what Clarke is worried about.

"What if I don't want you to do this, Bellamy?" She asks, tearful. "What if I honestly don't think I deserve to live at your expense like this? To make my mum hide me, too? After everything I've done – after I locked that door and pointed that gun at you -" She heaves in a shaky breath. "What if I _want_ to be the other side of that door?"

Just for a moment, he is honestly tempted. He's still furious with her over what she did earlier. He can't believe she would threaten him and endanger his sister. And hiding someone is not easy – he knows that from personal experience. He didn't enjoy having his entire childhood revolve around Octavia, and he can't say it sounds like a barrel of laughs to have his entire adulthood revolve around Clarke, either.

Who is he kidding? His life has been revolving around her for months, at this point. It's too late to call a halt now.

"I won't let that happen." He says, quiet but with utter conviction. "I am not losing you, Clarke. You're going to med bay and we'll find somewhere to hide you and we'll make it work."

"Bellamy -"

"I will not lose you." He bites out, even firmer, all teeth – and a good dose of terror.

She nods. Just that. One resigned nod.

So that's that settled. He has a feeling that this ought to have been a more pleasant moment, really. The way he sees it, he's just admitted that he needs her, that she means the world to him.

Aren't conversations like that supposed to be _happy_ , traditionally?

…...

They find a space for her in a medical supply closet, with a door that locks well enough. At least the sound of it unlocking will give her a moment to hide whenever the door is opened. Abby and Jackson and Niylah agree to keep Clarke's presence quiet and to provide for her as best as they can. And so it is that Bellamy watches as the love of his life – with whom he is still really rather angry, thank you very much – settles down on a pillow behind a stack of spare oxygen tanks.

This has honestly been the most stressful and confusing day of his entire life – and that's saying something.

He knows he needs to get going. Octavia will be suspicious if this takes him too long. He plans to spin her a believable tale of giving Clarke a merciful death at gunpoint and hiding the body from the local wildlife. That will explain why he's been gone a while, but he thinks it will also help sell the lie to Octavia. She knows her own brother. She knows that however furious he is with Clarke, he would never just turn her out to burn to death.

She knows he loves too deeply for that.

He doesn't hug Clarke goodbye. He can't. He genuinely cannot convince himself to wrap his arms around her, even as she sits there looking disorientated and guilt-stricken and utterly alone. But as he looks back on the last time he felt so hurt by her – back when he followed Pike and tried to hand her over – he knows that saving her is the right call. He learnt from that experience, knows that he will always regret any harm he causes or tries to cause Clarke in his anger.

He loves her. He'll remember that in the morning, or in three weeks' time, or perhaps next year.

So that's why he stirs himself to say a civil farewell.

"Get some rest." He offers, jaw tense, chest sore.

She nods, eyes fixed on her blanket. "Yeah. I'll try. I'm – I'm so sorry, Bellamy."

"Save it."

He doesn't say he'll see her again. Why would he? He has no business loitering around med bay, and he can't afford to draw suspicion to her. He simply nods at her once more and turns for the door.

"Thanks for keeping me alive." She whispers at his retreating back.

Damn it. He could swear he'll be hearing that thin, hopeless voice in his nightmares tonight.

…...

He doesn't go back to med bay. He doesn't ask Abby how Clarke is faring. He doesn't so much as _blink_ out of turn, because he knows he must be very careful if Clarke is to live.

He misses her more than he expected to. It's difficult, because he's still angry with her. He can't really process what happened the day she locked the door or get over his anger while he can't spend time with her. And so he misses her all the more keenly, because he just wants a heartbreaking conversation and a heartfelt hug, like they shared on that beach while they were hunting for a way to stop ALIE.

He settles for the next best thing. When he's setting up a desk for himself in his sister's office to help with the business of running this place, he takes more stationery from storage than he needs. And then, in the hallway outside the showers, he catches Abby and slips her one small notebook.

"For the artist in your life." He mutters under his breath.

She nods, wordless, carries on her way.

And he's left shivering in a towel and wondering whether a notebook can even begin to fix the cracks that yawn between them.

…...

Three days later, Abby ends up behind him in the supper queue.

"Your kindness is very much appreciated." She hisses.

"Yeah? Was it... helpful?" He asks.

"Very. We all think very highly of you in med bay." She says carefully.

It makes his heart a little warmer, although it shouldn't. Logically he knows Clarke doesn't actually hate him – she couldn't shoot him, not even when she thought shooting him would save the human race, and he thinks that has to count for something.

But hearing her own mother imply that Clarke is happy with his feeble little gesture means the world to him, in this moment.

He accidentally puts his portion of bread on Abby's tray that night. How foolish of him. How implausibly and conveniently _daft_. That's what he'll tell anyone, if they ask why he has no bread – that his hand must have slipped when he was taking his food and Abby had run off to eat in med bay before he could rectify the situation. And of course it's not suspicious at all that she so often takes her food back to eat in med bay – she's a very busy doctor and hasn't the time to sit and eat at table.

He wonders how many times he can accidentally put his bread on Abby's tray before people start to whisper about his newfound clumsiness.

Most of all he wonders whether Clarke is enjoying the bread.

…...

He lasts about a month before he goes to see Clarke.

"I want to get my leg checked out." He tells his sister late one afternoon, while they sit at their desks in her big office and try to juggle the business of ruling the human race.

"Your leg?"

"Yeah. You know where Roan stabbed me?"

"I thought that healed months ago."

"It did. But it doesn't move right, you know? The muscle doesn't feel strong and I'm getting some pain in that hip."

She snorts. "Great, Bell. We're living in a literal hole in the ground and you're complaining about a sore hip."

He bristles. "O. I know it's not the end of the world but I have every right to want to get it checked over."

For the record, this injury is not entirely a fabricated excuse. And yeah, sure, he can walk and jog just fine but pain isn't fun, thank you very much. More than anything, though, he's angry because his sister seems to have totally lost her compassion. He knows that deriding his minor injury is nothing compared to the way she wanted to throw Clarke out to die, or the way she enforces justice by waving her sword about threateningly. But it's just one more piece of evidence that she has forgotten what it is to be human.

She lets him go, on this occasion. She tells him to be back soon, and whilst she doesn't exactly apologise for her thoughtless words about his injury she doesn't carry on needling him, either.

He tries not to look too eager, as he sets out down the hall. He's just the conclave winner's brother, going on a little routine appointment to med bay. He hopes he's chosen a good time of day to visit and that med bay will not be too busy. He'll be devastated, now, if he's finally got up the courage and prepared the excuse to visit but then the place is crawling with too many people for him to be able to go meet Clarke in her hiding place.

He needn't have worried, in the end. There's only Jackson there, and he seems relieved to have something to do.

"Is she well?" Bellamy asks. It feels odd to be able to talk about her above a hushed whisper.

"Physically, she's well enough." Jackson says sombrely. "You want to see her?"

"Yeah. But I need you to take a look at my leg and give me some exercises or something too. I had to give my sister an excuse."

Jackson nods. "Go see Clarke first while there's no one here. She's in that same closet. I'll keep lookout for you."

Bellamy doesn't wait to be asked twice. He's so excited at the thought of seeing her, now, that he's striding down the med bay corridor and knocking on the door of her hiding place with a frankly shameless dose of enthusiasm.

"It's me." He tells the closed door. "Can I come in?"

"Bellamy?" She's there at once, unlocking the door from her side, shock and stunned joy lighting up her eyes.

Wow. She looks so different from the scared young woman he left here it's unreal. She's thinner and paler already, and he makes a mental note to accidentally give his bread to Abby more often. But honestly, she looks a lot better in herself. She doesn't look so guilty and fragile and apologetic – she seems much more engaged and confident and _Clarke_.

She welcomes him inside. It's an odd experience, really. This does not look like anyone's home. As it's the daytime, Clarke seems to have packed away all evidence of her sleeping arrangements. There's just her, and the notebook and pencil in her hand, and a large open storage box behind her labelled _X-ray plates_.

He gulps. That's where she hides, isn't it? That's the box the woman he loves has to actually curl up and hide in whenever any stranger inspects this little closet she calls home.

He thinks that's what does it. He seems to remember he was angry when he left her here. But something about the long month apart and the sadness of her situation has made his anger utterly irrelevant.

So it is that he reaches out and pulls her into a fierce hug.

"It's so good to see you." He admits in a whisper against the soft skin of her neck.

"You too." She murmurs right back, heartfelt. He can feel her hands pressed into his back and he figures that means she must have dropped her precious notebook, somewhere along the line.

Huh. Looks like he's not the only one who was desperate for a hug, here.

He pulls away after several long seconds and looks at her appraisingly. She scrabbles to pick up her notebook and pencil – sure enough, they have tumbled on the floor at their feet – and then looks up at him with a smile.

"How are you doing?" He asks gently.

"It's kind of you to visit. And thanks so much for the notebook and the bread." She tells him.

He frowns. That's not what he asked. "Clarke? How are you? Really?"

She swallows loudly. "I'm doing OK."

"You're doing about as well as anyone living in a box of X-ray plates could be doing?" He asks pointedly.

She nods. "Yeah. I guess. And – uh – I don't _live_ in that box. I sleep on the floor. I just hide there if someone comes in. I can't really stay curled up small enough to fit in there for long." She explains, as if that makes it OK.

Nothing about this situation is OK, he's pretty sure.

He tries to focus on the good points. She's alive. And honestly, she looks slightly more like her energetic self – but he wonders if that might be at least in part the excitement of having a new visitor.

Maybe he ought to bring her a little excitement more often.

"You like the notebook? Is there anything else I can get you?" That seems like an obvious place to start.

"No, really, I'm fine. And you've already done so much -"

"Clarke. Honestly – anything else you want or need?"

She shakes her head, bites her lip. "Not really. I guess food is always tight but we're coping. The main thing is just company but I can't ask you to come here often. It wouldn't be safe."

"Maybe I'll see if I can come up with excuses every now and then." He suggests. "Or maybe I can at least send messages with your mum or Jackson or Niylah."

She nods eagerly. "I'd like that."

Well, then. That's that one answered. He's always been a sucker for Clarke's approval, desperate to earn her praise and ensure her happiness. So he supposes he'll be sending a lot of messages in future.

"I'll see what I can do." He promises, smiling warmly at her.

"Thanks." She swallows loudly. "I don't feel like I deserve to ask you that. I know I hurt you, that day I ordered the door to be shut. And then you saved me anyway, and here you are talking about ways to cheer me up."

He shrugs. "It's what I do."

"Yeah. It does seem to be." She looks up at him, frowning slightly. "I don't get it. I don't understand what I did to deserve you taking care of me like this."

"Love isn't about what you deserve." He mutters, eyes fixed carefully on a shelf over her left shoulder.

He hears her sharp intake of breath, feels her step slightly closer. Maybe this is it, he wonders. Maybe at the end of the toughest month – the toughest _year_ – of his life, he's finally going to get together with Clarke in some crappy storage closet and forget it all, just for a few moments.

He steps closer still. He starts to reach for her, bends in for a kiss, eyelids fluttering closed as he -

"Bellamy. My next patient is due in five minutes. You need to get out of there." Jackson's voice comes from the far side of the door.

Bellamy sighs in defeat. He peers down, sees disappointment in Clarke's eyes.

"I'll come back." He promises. "I'll find an excuse. I hate to think of you miserable and alone in here."

"At least I've got something to look forward to now." She says, with an effortful brightness that he suspects is largely for his benefit.

"Yeah. I – I meant every word." He says, throat thick. Is he ready to say more than that? _Can he_ say more than that, in this messed up situation, where Clarke owes him her life and is starved for human contact and anyway, Jackson is standing right outside the door?

"And you must know I feel the same way." Clarke says.

He gasps. He didn't know that, actually. He sort of allowed himself to think she might, from time to time. Occasionally he would consider the idea, if only because she did choose _not_ to shoot him, that day.

But now he _knows_ it, and that's a lot.

He's still feeling pretty dazed as he hugs her briskly, presses a hurried kiss to her cheek, and heads out to his rather rushed appointment with Jackson.

…...

Three days later, Bellamy is forced to acknowledge that he has underestimated Jackson.

His hip is feeling a little better, for the record. He thinks the exercises are maybe helping. But that's not the best thing Jackson has done this week.

No – the best thing Jackson has done this week is telling Octavia that Bellamy will be requiring check ups on his leg every month for the foreseeable future, come what may.

That's an excuse to visit med bay every single month, and Bellamy is over the moon about it.

…...

His excitement fades pretty quickly when he realises that a month is a long time. He does what he can – passing portions of his food to the med bay team, as well as scavenged stationery. At one point he even comes across an old book on Renaissance painting and slips it into the clean laundry destined for med bay. He has no idea whether Clarke has a particular interest in the Renaissance, but she likes drawing and she's bored out of her mind so he figures a book about art is probably a worthwhile gift.

At last, the wait is over. Finally, the day rolls around and he can go to med bay and spend a precious half hour with her – or rather, a precious twenty-five minutes, because he must spend some little time having an actual appointment so he can report back to his sister on his progress.

He sort of expects Clarke to be nervous when he knocks at the door. They nearly kissed, a month ago, and were interrupted. That seems like the sort of thing that could cause nervousness – he's been feeling some combination of insecurity and excitement all week at the thought of this moment.

But of course, Clarke does not seem nervous in the slightest. She seems happy to see him, and confident, and then it's quite difficult to assess her mood much further because her arms are around his neck and her lips are on his and she's kissing him like her life depends on it.

Maybe it does, in a twisted kind of way. Maybe they should address that, at some point.

All the same, he brushes that aside and kisses her for a long few minutes. He's been wanting to kiss Clarke for months, and it's bizarre to him that it's finally happening now. That they're snatching some small happiness in such a thoroughly _un_ happy situation. The kiss is every bit as warm and tender yet firm as he knew it would be, and it gets rather heated, rather quickly.

That's why he decides it's time to pull away and talk about this.

"I love you." He begins there, because frankly he thinks it's long overdue.

"I love you, too." She tells him fervently, reaching up for another kiss. "It's so good to see you." One more kiss. "How are you doing?"

He grins wryly. He's pretty sure he should be asking her that question, actually. She's the one who hides in a box sporadically.

"I'm fine. But there's something I wanted to talk about."

She freezes, visibly alarmed, and he curses himself. He pulls her in for a hug while explains what's on his mind.

"I just wanted to say that I know this isn't the... healthiest situation. I don't want you to think you owe me anything because I saved you. I saw men manipulate and control my mother all the time because of her... circumstances and I don't want that for you. I love you. But I'll survive if you don't love me." He says, with a self-deprecating chuckle. "I want you to know that. You're not obliged to be with me just because you're stuck in this damn closet."

"Are you through?" She asks him, brow quirked. "I get it, Bellamy. I get why you wanted to say that. But honestly – didn't that kiss seem like _enthusiastic consent?_ "

He laughs. "Little bit. Yeah."

"I love you. I loved you before you brought me here to hide, but that first month I spent here gave me a lot of time to reflect on just how _much_ I love you." She tells him fervently. "So are we good?"

"We're good." He agrees. Was he angry with her once? That seems so foolish, now. Anger is such a waste of energy, and of the precious time they have in this life.

He decides to stop wasting any more time. He figures they have maybe fifteen minutes, now, before he has to leave. So he starts kissing her deeply, hungrily, already tugging at her belt.

"We'll have to be quick." She points out, apparently understanding what he's aiming for, here.

"I know. Trust me, won't be a problem." He says, chuckling at himself slightly. He's all for taking his time with sex when the circumstances allow it. But after almost a year of wanting this woman, he's pretty certain fifteen minutes will be more than long enough to finish the job.

They both tug their clothes aside, still kissing. Bellamy scoops Clarke up so her legs are wrapped around him, then balances her against the wall, too. It's hardly the most relaxed and tender of positions for their first time, but he thinks sex like this can be pretty personal and intimate, thank you very much. He's cradling Clarke carefully and kissing her deeply, and she's got her fingers tangled in his hair as she holds on tight.

He eases inside of her, starts building up a rhythm. And yeah, sure, maybe this isn't the time or place he would have chosen to get together with Clarke. But it feels so damn good in this moment that he just doesn't _care_. She's alive, and she loves him, and that's more than enough happiness for him.

"This OK?" He checks in with her.

"Perfect. Love you so much. Love the way you hold me tight."

"Love you." He reassures her right away. However breathless he is, that should never go unanswered. "Love the way you feel on my cock."

She groans. It's a sound he never dreamed she could make, and now he knows he'll be hearing it in his dreams tonight.

She gets noisier. Deeper groans, long loud moans. And then she's there, her grip tightening as she sighs out his name.

It feels somehow even better for him, after she has come. She's a little tighter around his cock, a little softer and more relaxed in his arms. But more than anything what makes it better is the knowledge that he's made it good for her, the heady feeling of success, the pure optimism of starting out on a new phase of his relationship with Clarke.

He comes with his forehead pressed into her neck and her name on his lips. He figures that's only right, really.

And when they are done, and he has set her down on the ground, and they have both rectified their clothing, he presses one chaste kiss to her forehead.

"I have to go see Jackson now. I'm sorry." He hates having to rush out like this straight afterwards. But he knows it's better than not seeing her at all.

It's sure as hell better than her being dead.

"It's OK. I get it. It was so good to see you. I'll see you next month."

Another chaste kiss. "I love you. Take care."

"Love you too."

Jackson is pointedly looking the other way, when Bellamy opens the door and emerges into med bay proper. Bellamy rather wonders just how loud he and Clarke were.

…...

It continues like that, more or less, for the first year. It's a tragic kind of torture, Bellamy finds, to know that Clarke is alive and well and right there, only he can't see her for fear of exposing her and getting her killed. At least when he hid Octavia while he was younger, he hid her in their family quarters and could actually see that she was safe with his own eyes.

It goes about as well as any relationship could, under the circumstances. He visits Clarke for a kiss and a brief conversation and an urgent screw, every month without fail. In between times he passes her food or treats or just little notes via her mother or Niylah or Jackson. But he can never receive a note in return, of course, because to have such a piece of paper lying around would be dangerous.

It's frustrating to say the least.

But then one of his monthly visits turns out frustrating in a way he really wasn't expecting. It all starts as usual – a lot of kissing, a few urgent, whispered questions.

Until Clarke pulls back from the kiss and rests her head against his chest, hugging him tight.

"Can we just talk today? Please?" She asks, sounding rather small. Sounding less like herself and more like that fragile woman he first hid here, he thinks.

"Sure. If you're sure that's what you want." He says, puzzlement and sexual frustration perhaps making him a little short.

"Yeah. I – I love having sex with you. Of course I do. But to be honest I can have sex with my own left hand when you're gone and I feel like we never get to just _talk_ any more. We were friends before we were together and – and I kind of miss that." She rushes out all at once.

He hugs her carefully while he thinks about how to reply. "You're saying you liked it better when we were just friends?" He asks, voice and hands shaking at the mere thought of it.

"No! No, not at all. I'm just saying – I wish we had time to be _both_."

They don't have time to be both, of course, so he just makes a humming noise and holds her even tighter.

"I get that." He offers, less than usefully, he fears. "Of course we can talk today. And maybe later this evening we both make plans to touch ourselves and think of each other? So we both can think of each other doing it at the same time at least?"

She laughs. "Bellamy. I get off thinking of you all the time. What else do I have to do in here?"

He feels his cock twitch in his pants. She's really not helping him to embrace the idea of a nice chaste chat, here. But it's important to her, and he knows it must be tough being shut in here with such little company.

He knows that, because he raised his sister. And look what a tyrannical monster she turned out to be.

He brushes that thought aside, focuses on what Clarke wants and needs in this moment.

"You want to talk about what we're going to do when we get out of this bunker?" He offers. Some hope for the future sounds like a healthy thing, right now. "I'm hoping we'll move in together, if you're up for that. I always wanted a house where all the walls are covered in sketches." He jokes affectionately.

It's the right thing to say. He can tell that right away, in the way she relaxes more deeply into his arms and sighs softly.

"Hey, if it was left up to you, the walls would probably be decorated with rifle racks." She teases.

"Just because I'm proud of being able to shoot straight doesn't mean I'd decorate a house with _rifles_." He bounces back in turn.

"Would too."

In some ways, he thinks, it might be the most pointless argument they've ever had – and that's saying something. And yet there is another level on which this silly conversation is serving its purpose perfectly.

Clarke is laughing. And today, he thinks, that counts as victory.

…...

Octavia continues to be difficult to say the least. She's cold, prone to solving problems by waving her sword around – and even, on occasion, through execution. She's inflicted the death penalty twice since they found themselves here – once for theft of clothing, once for starting a violent fight.

It feels like the Ark all over again.

So that's why Bellamy treads very carefully, when he makes his next request. He knows he cannot afford to rouse his sister's anger or suspicion. But he's been having a think, and he believes he has an idea that might make his life a hell of a lot more pleasant – and Clarke's too.

"I'd like to ask Jackson to train me as a nurse." He says lightly. Making this suggestion seem totally unimportant is the key, he knows.

"A _nurse_?" Octavia asks, startled. "Since when do you have any interest in nursing?"

"I don't really." He says, as if it's no big deal. "But I know they're often short staffed in med bay and you know I'm good mates with Jackson and Miller. If anyone is going to train up fast to cover a few shifts, I guess it makes sense for it to be me."

"But I need your help running this place." Octavia points out.

"Yeah. Jackson was saying he wishes they had another part-time nurse. I'm just suggesting I do that a couple of days a week and help you the rest of the time."

"And what does _Dr Griffin_ think about all this?" Octavia asks, voice dripping scorn.

He shrugs lightly. "No idea. I don't speak to her much." To be fair, that's not a total lie. He hands her food parcels very often, but he doesn't actually _talk_ to her a great deal.

Octavia nods shortly, as if she's unhappy but can't think of a good reason to deny his request.

"I guess we do need med bay to run smoothly." She says, resigned.

"Yeah. You want me to cover that, then?"

"Yeah. It's a good idea." She lets out a cold laugh. "You know, at times like this I almost regret casting out Clarke. She knew her way around med bay."

Bellamy bites his lip. He has no idea what the correct answer is, here. Perhaps it's naive or foolish of him, but he wasn't prepared for this turn of events.

"You did what you had to do." He says in the end, and the words come out heavy.

"You miss her." Octavia says, and it's not a question.

"Yeah." That's the honest truth, even though she's still alive. "But she did something terrible that day."

She nods. Silence sits. Bellamy gets back on with reading the hydrofarm report in front of him, and tries to do a passable impression of a grieving but angry and understanding guy. That's a lot. It's a confusing and conflicting bundle of emotions, and for all his experience as an inside man, he's not sure he's a good enough actor to pull it off.

He gives up in the end, and just wears his own honest face. He thinks probably he looks distressed enough right now to get away with it.

…...

Training to be a nurse is the best idea Bellamy has ever had. He gets to check in with Clarke several times a day whenever he's in med bay, stays late when most people have gone home in order to talk with her and make love with her and all round enjoy her company for as long as he can.

It's more happiness than he expected to find in this bunker, that's for sure.

Sometimes there are difficulties. If someone is admitted overnight, for example, he cannot be coming and going from Clarke's closet all the time in case it rouses suspicion – or at least, he must wait until they are asleep before he does so.

But in short, he has an excuse to visit Clarke rather often now, and it is wonderful.

…...

Bellamy relaxes too soon. He's been working in med bay scarcely three months when his sister is admitted. She's only got some vomiting bug, but because she rules this place they need to take great care of her recovery.

And as a result, there are a hell of a lot of people milling around med bay and he cannot spend time with Clarke.

They still have to take her food and water, of course. They won't be able to take her usual water for washing with until med bay has emptied – for this week they are restricted to doing the bare minimum to keep her alive.

Bellamy takes most of her meals. It makes sense, really, because he is the new nurse so he naturally should be the one running to fetch and carry from the storage closet. Today, for example, he is sneaking Clarke a portion of bread and beans hidden in a box labelled _triangular bandages_. He's risked putting a note in there, too – just a brief one. A few words of love and an exhortation to draw something interesting and explain it to him when they can hang out again.

He unlocks the door without knocking. He has to – it would look strange to knock on a storage closet when there are all these people are around. He hates how much this survival strategy has dehumanised Clarke, really. She's forced to stay in a cupboard with neither privacy nor freedom much like his sister was. The irony of that is not lost on him.

She's hiding in her box when he gets in there. He hates that for her. She's been cramped in there during most of working hours, since Octavia and her retinue showed up, only daring to relax the slightest bit at night.

He places her meal and note on a shelf. He makes a lot of noise about looking for the thing Abby sent him in here for – some sterile dressings, which he intends to carry casually displayed to the world as he walks out of here.

But before he leaves, he can't resist easing the lid off Clarke's box and peeping a small smile down at her.

She raises her brows at him, her spirit unbroken even now. She's incredible, truly, and in moments like this he finds himself rather in awe of her.

And then, of all things, she lifts her hands up a little in front of her, shapes a rustic heart with her thumbs and forefingers. It's _adorable_ , honestly. It ought to look childish, perhaps, but it comes across as anything but – rather, this is the most mature and capable woman he knows looking on the bright side of a terrible situation.

"Love you too." He mimes back at her, absolutely silent.

Then he sets the lid back in place, takes his sterile dressings and leaves.

…...

Octavia is perhaps a little warmer when she is over her vomiting bug. Maybe. Just the slightest amount.

"You were right about med bay. It seems busy. You like nursing?" She asks, the morning after she returns to her duties in the office.

"I like it well enough."

"Spend more time there if they need you. I can spare you more often."

He thinks that ought to be good news. He ought to be happy that she has invited him to spend more time in the place he loves more than all others, right now. But it's difficult to see it as good news, when it takes the form of his baby sister giving him a dismissive order.

…...

Bellamy knows something is wrong the moment he arrives in med bay. Abby looks at him too heavily, Jackson is shaking as he invites his first patient in.

Something must have happened to Clarke.

He needs to know. He needs to stride into her hiding place and figure it out. He needs to -

"She's OK." Niylah whispers carefully as she passes him. "But we all need to talk later."

How he survives the rest of the day he honestly doesn't know. What can that mean – that she's apparently OK, but that everyone looks so unhappy and they need to talk? How is he supposed to manage his concern for her until the moment he finds out what the hell is going on?

He tries to focus on his nursing. He's been getting the hang of things round here, the last few months. He can do this. He can take care of people even while he's waiting to figure out what's going on with Clarke.

At last, the final appointment of the day is done. Abby beckons to him, and heads towards Clarke's hiding place. Jackson follows close behind, while Niylah keeps a careful watch down the hall.

Bellamy feels apprehensive as he reaches for the door and knocks.

"We thought she should be the one to tell you." Abby says, and that's hardly comforting.

Clarke is in his arms almost the moment he finishes knocking, flying clean out the closet door in her eagerness to hug him. There's definitely something going on here, he thinks. Even when the coast is clear she doesn't usually venture out – normally, he comes to her.

The moment she says it, everything makes sense.

"I'm pregnant." Clarke says softly.

He hugs her tighter on instinct. She's _pregnant_.

He doesn't even know where to start with processing this. How did it happen? She has a contraceptive implant. How will this work? Having a baby would be even more dangerous than hiding Clarke herself. Does she want an abortion? He firmly feels it should be her choice – he'll support her no matter what.

But over and above all that? One thought, loud and clear. He should have known this would happen. He should have known history would be determined to repeat itself on this front.

"I love you." He whispers to her fervently. "No matter how this pans out, I love you, and I'm with you."

"I love you too. Thanks. We'll be OK."

He loosens the hug a little, keeps an arm round Clarke as he turns to include Abby and Jackson in the conversation. "What's the plan? What are Clarke's options?"

Abby bites her lip. It's Jackson who explains.

"You know we're making do as best as we can round here, Bellamy. We don't have the medication to terminate a pregnancy safely. Or not – not _completely_ safely. There are things we could try if that's really what Clarke wants."

Bellamy swallows harshly. "I know I said I'd be with you not matter what but – but I really want you to be safe." He says, turning to Clarke.

She nods. "I knew you'd say that. Pregnancy and childbirth in hiding in an ill-equipped med bay aren't exactly safe, either."

"Proceeding with the pregnancy is safest from a purely medical point of view." Abby says, eyes fixed on the floor. "It's obviously not the safest when we consider hiding a baby as well as Clarke."

Bellamy nods. That's not easy to hear, but he knows it's the truth. It's only what he expected.

"How are you feeling, Clarke? Do you want longer to think about this?" He asks her, with a squeeze of his arm around her shoulders. "I'm so sorry. This is a lot to throw at you when really I just want to hug you and ask if you've been feeling sick."

She laughs wryly. "Yeah. I have been feeling sick, for the record." She sighs. "I get it. We need to decide soon. Honestly – the larger part of me just really wants to have a baby." She smiles thinly. "I know, I know. I need to think it through. But I want it, Bellamy." She says, looking up at him with tears in her eyes. "In the middle of all this – this _crap_ , don't you think it would be incredible to have our baby to celebrate?"

Yeah. He does think that, actually. He's been thinking that since the moment she first told him the news, but trying desperately not to focus on it because Clarke's safety and happiness will always be his priority.

"I'd love to have a family with you." He agrees at once. "But I definitely understand if you think this isn't the time or the place."

She nods. "I'd keep it except that – that then I'll be asking you guys to risk even more. And I don't think I can do that."

"We're with you." Abby says at once, stepping forward and hugging Clarke from the other side. "I love you – _both_ of you." She says, smiling at Bellamy, too. "Whatever you decide, I'll be here every step of the way."

"Me too." Jackson says, quiet but certain.

"You're sure? You're the only one not related to this little bean." Bellamy jokes, smiling at the guy who has become one of his greatest friends, in recent years.

"I'm a doctor. _Do no harm_." Jackson says with a shrug.

"And besides – he's definitely part of the family by now." Abby says.

"Looks like you're having a baby, then." Jackson concludes.

Yes. It rather seems like they are.

It's at that point that Bellamy decides to back Clarke none-too-subtly across the threshold, close the door on her mother and honorary brother, and get on with kissing her senseless.

…...

The pregnancy seems to pass by in a flash. They spend a great deal of the time re-arranging items in the med bay storage closets, ensuring Clarke's hiding place is full of items that are not required so often – and thereby ensuring that the door will be closed the vast majority of the time, to minimise the chance of anyone hearing the baby crying.

"What if someone asks why we're moving all this stuff?" Bellamy wonders, lugging an ultra-sound machine down the corridor.

"Then I'll tell them I run med bay how I see fit, thank you very much." Abby tells him, half sharp, half laughing.

Bellamy chuckles a little in turn. As mothers-in-law go, he could certainly do worse.

…...

The baby arrives, a healthy boy called Gus – not Bellamy's choice but Clarke's, actually. Or rather, he knows full well that she chose it on his account, but he's not complaining. A little freckle-faced boy named after a Roman emperor and sleeping in Clarke's arms is everything he's ever wanted in this life, he's pretty sure.

Well – that and them being able to leave med bay. But it's better than nothing, and he's determined to count his blessings.

"He's beautiful." Bellamy says, for perhaps the third time inside of ten minutes, just sitting on the floor of Clarke's closet with her and watching Gus feed.

"His father is very good looking." She whispers conspiratorially.

Bellamy barks out a laugh. "But his mother is _beautiful_. I win?"

She snorts. "Sure. You win."

It's an empty victory in many ways, of course. It's a victory that comes with an extra dose of fear and difficulty and just plain-old inconvenience.

But building happiness in the face of despair has always been his and Clarke's thing.

…...

Gus is three months old when Kane is arrested.

Bellamy feels terrible about it. He didn't even know that Kane was stealing food for Clarke and Gus. He should perhaps have worked it out, he thinks now. If he were less wrapped up in his own improbable happiness, he might not have been surprised to hear that Kane has been arrested for smuggling protein paste out of the kitchen.

Damn it. Octavia might have been more lenient, were it anything else. But protein is tight at the moment – the soybean crop is fussy. And so it is that Kane is sentenced to death without hesitation.

Bellamy knows he cannot sit back and watch it happen. He dashes to his sister's office – the office where he has been spending ever less time recently. And it occurs to him too late that perhaps he will regret that, now. Perhaps if he had maintained closer ties with her he would be able to influence her in this moment.

He's surprised when he knocks and enters. Octavia is not striding about the place, wielding her sword as if practising to deliver tomorrow's death blow. That's how Bellamy remembers her acting, the night before the two previous executions. But tonight she is sitting at her desk, head in her hands, and weeping loudly.

"Octavia?" He asks. He seems to have got out of the habit of calling her _O_ , these last couple of years.

"Bellamy. What are you doing here?"

He frowns. "You must know exactly what I'm doing here. I'm here to remind you that Kane has been a good friend to both of us – and to people we care about – and ask you to spare him."

She shakes her head, scattering tears. "I can't, Bell. I can't."

Huh. _Bell_ now? That's interesting.

She's still going. "I want to. I don't want him dead. But I killed those other men for less. I don't know what to do."

"Do what you know is right." He suggests.

She snorts damply. "As if my moral compass is much use. What would you do? At times like this, I wish I could ask Clarke. She'd have a clever plan."

The irony of that is not lost on him. "I'd spare him. You know I would. And even though Clarke isn't here, you can still think about what she would do. You know she'd spare him too. I know she wasn't averse to killing, but she never killed without reason."

Octavia snorts. "Still defending her, big brother?"

He stiffens. He can't afford to give anything away, here. "I'm just saying – think about it. I believe you should spare him."

With that, he slips from the room before he can say too much.

…...

Kane isn't executed. He's on sanitation duty indefinitely, but he lives.

Bellamy tries not to get too excited. He tries not to allow himself to believe that his little sister might be coming back to him after all.

…...

There are some unfortunate murmurings, when Kane is spared. Bellamy tries not to pay too much attention to them. He has his nursing work, his time with Clarke and Gus. And he's trying to spend a little more time with his sister these days, too. She does feel slightly more human since she spared Kane – he doesn't know whether that's real or just wishful thinking, quite yet.

He's in the office with her tonight. He's helping her review a list of recent petty crimes – food theft has unfortunately risen since Kane's pardon. It's all small amounts, but it adds up. Yet he'd be a hypocrite to advocate taking a hard line on this. He's been passing food to Clarke for years. And that after a childhood of stealing food for his sister, too.

"I don't know what to do about it." Octavia says, hands spread. "Sparing Kane was the right thing to do. But I don't want everyone to think they can steal. Is there another solution? Some way of bringing home to them just how tight food rations are round here?"

"I don't know." Bellamy says, helpless.

"Ask Clarke when you next see her." Octavia says, tone perfectly level.

Bellamy feels the floor fall away from under him, head spinning, pulse pounding. "I don't know what you mean." He tries to sound confused and does not entirely succeed.

"Ask Clarke. She'll have some clever idea."

"I can't ask Clarke. She's -"

"Alive and hidden somewhere in med bay. I'm not sure exactly where." Octavia says lightly. He wonders whether she realises how chilling it is, to have her discuss the life of his lover in quite that calm tone.

Yes. Probably she does. Probably that's exactly why she's doing it.

"Octavia -"

"It's an interesting one." She continues, still in that same level voice. "When you were talking about what Clarke would do, showing compassion and sparing him I thought – yes. She'd solve the problem. And I found myself solving a problem of my own. Kane stealing food. Everyone who works in med bay losing weight. You suddenly deciding you want to be a nurse, when you've shown no interest in that path before. And you just didn't look _right_ , big brother. No way anyone who's lost the love of their life looks that calm about it, however angry they were when they lost them." She swallows loudly. "I know that, because I see my own face in the mirror every morning. I know I haven't looked the same since I lost Lincoln. And however worried you've been about her – you still look like you have Clarke."

He takes a shaky breath. "Please don't hurt her, O. I'll do anything. Just please -"

"Relax. I won't touch her. If I wanted to slit her throat I'd have done it by now. And you've heard me – I could use her help around here. And I hear med bay have been very overstretched at times. I seem to remember they had to recruit a new nurse to fill her role." She teases.

He gulps. This doesn't feel like a time for teasing.

"So she can come out now. Honestly, big brother, I swear it – no harm will come to her. I – I know how much you love her, apart from anything else. I wouldn't hurt either of you."

"She can't just come out." He mutters. "It's not as simple as that."

"Yes it is. My word is law round here. I say she lives without any punishment, and it happens."

"No. I mean there are... complications."

There's a beat of silence. Octavia looks up at him, frowning. He tries to breathe, but he's not sure he can remember how.

"When you say _complications_?"

He takes a deep breath. "Remember how much it sucked to be an illegal baby, O? Remember the feeling of being trapped and unwanted and -"

"Yeah. I get it. I won't harm the kid, either. Heaven knows I've not given you much reason to trust me recently, Bell, but I wouldn't harm my own niece or nephew for the crime of _existing_." She takes a shaky breath. "I've been there."

"I remember." He says, with something like cynical humour.

"Are you going to have to spend your whole life worrying obsessively about the people you love, do you think? Hiding them and feeding them and fretting about them every minute of every day?"

"I sure hope not." He says. "But from what I hear, fatherhood is a bit like that even when the kid is legal."

"The kid's legal now." Octavia tells him, audibly exasperated. "Boy or girl?"

"Boy. Gus. Short for Augustus."

Octavia laughs. "I guess there's our proof that Clarke really is totally head over heels for you. Poor kid. _Augustus_?"

He flushes a little, chuckles slightly. He thinks this is going OK. Octavia genuinely does seem to mean his precious family no harm, but he's still struggling to trust that it's true. Who can blame him? He's spent his whole life waiting for the guards to knock at the door.

"Can I meet them?" Octavia asks, voice suddenly much quieter. "Can I tell Clarke I'm sorry and can I see my little nephew?"

He nods. He coughs slightly, throat dry. "I guess I'll go tell them they're safe now."

With a very odd mixture of hope and happiness, fear and fretfulness, he stands and leaves the room.

…...

Clarke doesn't hesitate when he tells her it's safe to come out.

"If she wanted us dead we'd be dead by now." She reasons, in that pragmatic way of hers. "Come on. Let's go."

With that she scoops Gus into her arms, clasps her precious few personal belongings wrapped in a pillowcase, and sets out down the hall.

Bellamy is worried about how she will cope, on many levels. Apart from the shock of being outside after so long, he fears that she's not had much practice of walking and being up and about. He knows she keeps fit as best as she can, but there's a difference between squatting in a closet and striding down a hall.

He doesn't get chance to worry about that for long. Octavia meets them in the corridor just outside med bay.

"Hey. Sorry. I couldn't wait." She says, and it genuinely does seem like its the truth. "I guess you'll be bunking with Bellamy, Clarke? And I've had Miller put a little box and some spare bedding in there. That will do for a crib for now. I can ask -"

"Take a breath, O." Bellamy recommends. She almost looks like his little sister again, in this moment.

Silence sits heavily for a moment. Octavia is frowning. Clarke is shaking slightly. Then Gus starts to chunter quietly.

"Is he OK?" Octavia asks quietly.

Clarke nods. "He's pretty healthy, considering. That's his hungry noise."

"Oh. Well. I won't keep you." Octavia says, shifting her weight from foot to foot. "I just wanted to say – I'm glad you're not dead. And I'm sorry for trying to have you killed."

Clarke laughs. She actually full on _laughs_. It's a little hysterical, perhaps, but it's loud and true. "Shall we try to put that behind us? I don't seem to be in any fit position to bear a grudge."

Octavia smiles cautiously. "Yes. I'd like that more than anything. Honestly I could use some help remembering how _not_ to be that person who cast you out."

Clarke nods. Bellamy nods, too, because it seems like nodding is the thing to do.

Octavia speaks up once more. "And I'd really like to get to know this little one. I – I know not having a family with Lincoln is one of my big regrets."

Clarke nods again, chewing her lip slightly. "I get that. I think – it'll be a while before I feel safe and comfortable enough to let him out of my sight. But you're welcome to come see him any time."

"Thank you. Thanks so much. I hope he likes the crib."

She nods once more, and then she turns and flees. Bellamy's pretty sure she's crying as she goes. He thinks maybe he'll go see how she's doing, later. But for now, his duty is to his lover and child.

No. It's not just a question of duty. He's exactly where he wants to be, too.

…...

When they are summoned to listen to Octavia give a speech in the rotunda that evening, Bellamy thinks he knows what he is in for. An authoritarian declaration that her word is law, presumably, and that no harm will come to her newly-discovered relatives. His confidence on that front only grows, when Octavia asks him and Clarke to stand behind her, holding Gus.

He couldn't be more wrong, it turns out.

"I've called you all here today to tell you a story." Octavia says, loud and clear. "It's a story of the most important person in this bunker, if you ask me – my brother, Bellamy. You all know him, yes? He's been working in med bay and you've seen him there. You've seen how kind and patient he is."

She takes deep breath.

"You haven't seen the half of it. He protects people – that's Bellamy. He protected me my entire childhood. He's been protecting Clarke since the moment he met her, his son since the moment he was born. He hid me under the floor when I was a child and stole food to feed me. Without him, I would not be here today. Without him, there would be no Wonkru."

There are gasps amongst the audience, a smattering of applause.

"He did much the same thing to protect his family here, too. So that's why I pardoned Marcus Kane – because I know what it is to steal food for someone you love. And that's why I'm pardoning Clarke and Gus, now, as well as everyone who has helped them to stay hidden. But I can't let the theft of food run rampant."

She leaves a slight pause. Her warriors look to each other, evidently puzzled.

"We're going to change things a little round here. Guided by my brother's example, I'm going to steer us back to the togetherness and feeling of family I wanted when I founded Wonkru. I'm asking you not to steal food. Once a week we will all come together here so that my brother and I can tell you about the yields on the hydrofarm. We will all work together to find an agreement on what to do with any surplus food. We are _Wonkru._ " She declares, with careful emphasis. "And we will come together as one."

Her words are met with wild applause. That's usually the case, of course – only a fool refuses to applaud a tyrant. But Bellamy thinks the applause is a little more genuine than frantic, today, and that seems promising.

"Nice speech, O." He tells her, as she draws back from the edge of her box overlooking the crowd.

She turns to him with an impish grin. It's an expression he hasn't seen on her face in years, and he likes it.

"Thanks, big brother. I learnt from the best." She says, gesturing between him and Clarke.

That's a bit of an improvement on _there's no place in this bunker for traitors,_ isn't it?

…...

There are big changes after that – obviously there are.

Naturally Bellamy feels less anxious, now that he knows the people he loves the most are safe from harm. And Clarke flourishes, able to exercise freely and eat proper portions and live a life free from fear.

It's Gus who blossoms the most, of course. He loves being surrounded by people. And it ought to be sad, perhaps, that he's never seen the sun, but after four months in that closet he seems to think that the bunker's fluorescent strip lights are the most exciting thing in the world.

The biggest change apart from the chance to relax? Honestly, life is suddenly very _convenient_. It's amazing how much easier it is to raise a family when they're not in hiding. Gus sleeps in a crib at the side of the cramped bunk Bellamy and Clarke share. All three of them eat meals together, all three of them head to med bay together while Bellamy and Clarke are working. Gus loves to be toted around between consultation rooms on his mother or father or grandmother's hip.

There's one major inconvenience, of course. This very public way of being a family is terrible for Bellamy and Clarke's sex life.

Bellamy knows that's not a big deal, in the grand scheme of things. Everyone he loves is safe, and if the trade off is that the most excitement he gets in the next two years is a little heavy petting under the covers late at night, he can deal with that.

All the same, when Abby offers to babysit Gus one evening, he jumps at the chance.

"Thanks, Abby. That would be great. It's a long time since we've had any privacy."

Too late, he realises how that sounded. Too late, he looks to Clarke with an apologetic flush blooming over his cheeks. She doesn't care. She's giggling slightly.

Abby passes it off with a calm smile. "Yes, Bellamy. Thanks for sharing that. So if I take Gus this evening, I'll make sure that Clarke's old closet is left ready for you."

Right. Clarke's old closet. The only place in this bunker to get busy behind a safely closed door.

…...

It's weird, going back to Clarke's hiding place. Bellamy feels sort of instinctively anxious coming here, and that's hardly a recipe for a good time. But then Clarke fixes it, of course. She has a talent for fixing things, in his experience.

"I'm happy to be coming back here to do this." She tells him. "It's good to be turning this place into a place where good things happen."

He kisses her for that. He's not sure how else to convey what a wonderful idea he thinks that is.

And that kiss turns into more kisses, of course – that's how kissing Clarke works, in his experience. They can afford to take their time a little more today, so he's urgent but not frantic as he slips his hands beneath her clothes and then decides her clothes need removing entirely.

"It feels weird to be taking our time." She murmurs against his neck.

"Are you complaining?" He asks, teasing.

"No." She sucks a little bruise into the soft skin where neck meets shoulder.

He sniggers slightly at that.

"What's so funny?"

"If your mum had any doubts about what we're doing in here, she certainly doesn't now." He provides, chuckling into Clarke's hair.

She starts laughing in earnest, louder and longer than he's heard her laugh in years, and it does his heart good to hear it.

"It's OK, Bellamy." She says in a stage whisper when she has collected herself. "I think she might have figured out we were sleeping together when I got pregnant."

"Huh. Maybe." He plays along.

"Or definitely when I asked her to replace my implant after Gus came along."

"That would do it." He agrees in turn.

They laugh together a little longer, trading lazy kisses between giggles. It turns out that laughter and kisses together with a naked Clarke is a recipe for success, really. They've never had time to simply play around together like this before, and he likes it.

He tries to keep the mood playful, it turn, as things get more heated. He makes a great show of teasing her by hovering over her chest, pressing kisses near her nipples but never quite hanging around to suckle them the way he knows she likes. He carries on playing their new game, too, as he moves back up to place a peck on the tip of her nose.

But she's not laughing, now. She's looking up at him with open adoration in her eyes.

"I love you." She tells him firmly. "I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you. Just imagine, when we have our own house up on the ground and we get to do this every night."

"Sounds perfect." He agrees. "I love you so much." He adds, with a fervent kiss.

He can practically hear the response she's thinking – some teasing line about how her first clue on that front was him risking his life to hide her for three years, thank you very much. But she doesn't say it out loud. She seems to have decided it's time to move things along, now, as her kiss becomes a little more purposeful and she starts palming at his butt.

He's not complaining. He was enjoying playing around, but he's never going to say no to a more heated way of spending time with Clarke naked, either. He takes her hint, eases inside of her and starts building up the familiar rhythm.

There's something really cool about sleeping with the same person for several years, he decides. It's something he'd never tried before Clarke – the longest he had ever had a relationship last was _weeks_. But there's something beautiful about knowing her so well, being able to understand her moans and read her groans.

He knows how to make her happy, in short, and that makes him feel good in turn.

He knows she likes them to hold each other close while they make love, that she's a fan of lots of skin-on-skin contact. That's one of his favourite things, too, so he allows his full weight to press into her chest as he rests on his elbows. He knows she likes messy kisses as she gets close, loves to pant into his open mouth and taste his breathlessness, too.

And he knows when she's close. He knows because her legs start trembling and her cries grow indecently urgent and high-pitched.

The best thing of all? He knows that she'll always squeeze him in a slightly tighter hug, just as she finishes coming. He holds out for that moment now, as he does every time. Without fail, that's the final thing that tips him over the edge.

They lie there for a little while, when they're done. More lazy kisses, more laughter. But it's not long before they decide that they've both keen to get back to Gus.

This is what a child should be. He understands that, now. A serious responsibility, but not a duty. And a _happy_ responsibility, too, that they feel they have chosen – even if they would not in all honesty have chosen this time or place.

…...

Bellamy finds it odd to watch Clarke and Octavia get along so well, in the months and years that follow. He thinks of his little sister as a woman who holds a grudge, however much he loves her. She's held onto bitter feelings often enough in the past – even against him.

She doesn't do that with Clarke, now. She genuinely seems determined to apologise thoroughly and welcome Clarke and Gus into her life. It's almost eerie, in many ways.

"I think maybe it's called personal growth." Clarke suggests, when he raises the topic one evening.

"Yeah. I'm happy about it, of course. I just find it odd."

"I suppose we've all grown up and had chance to think about how to do better. I remember for a few frightening months of my life killing hundreds of people became almost _routine_." Clarke muses sadly. "We dealt with so much in such a short space of time. It was bound to take its toll. Hopefully this is your sister taking some time to recover."

It's a funny thought. Ruling a bunker of twelve hundred is a stressful experience, and didn't ought to be the model of peaceful recovery time. But on the other hand, Bellamy muses, at least there aren't that many life or death threats here. Keeping the peace – in a context where it's in everyone's interests to keep the peace – is at least a little easier than keeping people alive.

But that's less than half the answer, he knows.

"It's Gus. That's most of it. Not just the fact she loves him – she sees herself in him, too. I think she really gave herself a fright when she realised she almost put him through what she went through. And that she'd made you live in hiding, too."

"Yeah." Clarke agrees around a yawn.

He supposes it's something he'll never truly understand. He might have made it his life's work to protect people stuck behind closed doors. But he has not been in that situation himself – he cannot truly bond with Octavia and Clarke and Gus over the feeling of living in hiding.

He's glad of it. He thinks he's much better suited to the role of protective brother or lover or father than he is to being locked in.

…...

The biggest surprise of Octavia's reform? She doesn't just try to avoid future mistakes – she even goes back and does what she can to make reparations for her past errors. She invites the families of those she had executed for their crimes to come and talk to her, gives them some token items of compensation from the bunker storecupboards.

"We'll have a proper memorial above ground." She assures them all. "When we open the door we'll have a proper chance to say goodbye."

She doesn't stop there. She's grateful to those who helped Clarke and Gus while they were in hiding, makes a point of inviting their opinions in the Wonkru meetings that are held in the rotunda now.

There's something she says to Bellamy, four and a half years in, that he thinks will stay with him to the end of his days.

_Thank you for saving me from myself._

…...

When it is time, all four of them go to open the door together. The whole Griffin-Blake family – Octavia and Bellamy and Clarke and Gus. Octavia insists that's the way it should be, and will not hear differently. In fact, she tries to suggest inviting Abby, too. But Bellamy points out to her that she's in danger of making her expedition ridiculously large, here.

They throw the door open. The geiger counter tells them that the radiation level is fine, so they stumble up the stairs and out into the light.

"Thank god." Octavia says, the moment they are up topside. "I hate living under the floor."

"Me too." Gus pipes up. He's getting quite chatty, recently.

"At least you had occasional access to a shower." Clarke points out. "Three years of sponge baths was not fun."

Bellamy tries for a smile. He's not ready to joke about it, not yet. In fact, he thinks, he's not ready to joke about _either_ of them. He will carry some of the anxiety of hiding these two women with him till the end of his days, he suspects.

But they're both safe, and that's what counts. All three of the people he loves the most in this life are alive and well and survived Praimfaya, and are standing here with him and looking out at the wasteland.

Polis is a mess, for the record. It's a chaotic heap of tumbled stone and scorched earth. But in this moment, Bellamy can't imagine seeing a sweeter sight.

It's time for life on Earth to start over again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
